


Cherry Blossom Wind

by Claire



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Derek thinking about the Sheriff, M/M, Masturbation, background petopher
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-22
Updated: 2016-05-22
Packaged: 2018-06-10 01:38:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6932602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Claire/pseuds/Claire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He can still hear the Sheriff's voice in his head, can still feel the heat of the man's hand as he clapped Derek on the shoulder and said, "Good job, son--"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cherry Blossom Wind

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a prompt: psst, may we have some Derek wanking off to the Sheriff please?

Every night Derek tries not to let his hand creep down towards his cock, but he can't help himself. He waits until he's in bed, the moonlight streaming in through the windows of the loft. He can still pick up the sounds of the outside, the noise of the building settling around him. And he can still hear the Sheriff's voice in his head, can still feel the heat of the man's hand as he clapped Derek on the shoulder and said, "Good job, son--"

It's always harder when John's been with the pack, when they've had to work side by side with the Sheriff's department for whatever reason. Because Derek can't stop himself from looking towards Stilinski in the hopes of getting that simple nod or those few words that tell Derek that he's done okay. And he knows what it is, knows that the part of him that was never meant to be an alpha, was always meant to be a beta, is searching for that one person to look to, to tell him what to do.

He sees it in the way Peter is with Chris, the way Chris' hand on the back of Peter's neck soothes the jitters running through the older wolf. Because if Peter can find it, then so can Derek. Only, the one person he's found that makes him feel like he can just let go, that he can hand it all over, is the Sheriff, and Derek doesn't think that John Stilinski will appreciate if Derek just kneels by him and rests his head on his thigh. It's different with Chris. Because, yes, Chris is human, but he's a hunter. He knows how to handle Peter, knows the ways wolves are. John didn't have the slightest clue wolves even existed until a couple of years ago, and Derek doesn't think he has any idea what he's doing each time he reaches out to Derek, each time he praises Derek for a job well done.

Every time it happens, Derek's wolf rumbles in satisfaction, and Derek knows that he'll be spilling hot and fast into his hand as soon as he's alone.

He imagines John is there with him, imagines the other man sitting in the darkness, watching Derek on the bed. He spreads his legs, giving the voyeur who isn't there a full view of him, laying himself open to John's gaze.

Derek can hear the words in his mind, can hear John voice each "That's it, Derek--" and every "Show me what you want--"

He wraps his fingers around his hard cock, already throbbing, with precome running down his length to slick the grip he has on himself.

Starting off slowly, Derek strips his cock, teasing his foreskin over the head with each pass of his hand. The scent of his own arousal sits thick and heavy in the air, and he closes his eyes as he remembers the scent of John's aftershave along with it.

The imagined shadowy figure leans forward, eyes fixed on where Derek's stroking himself. Derek hitches his hips slightly, wanting John's eyes on his dick, on the cleft of his ass.

"That's right, baby. Show yourself to me." The words aren't there but Derek hears them anyway. They're low and rough, like John's trying to control himself in the wake of Derek's need but can't quite do so.

He jerks himself harder, his wrist twisting as he slicks the steadily running precome over himself. The wet slide of skin against skin almost drowns out Derek's breath, and it ramps him up further. He can feel it building inside him, that need to come, to break apart.

"Come on, Derek. You know you want to."

And he does. He wants to give John everything he can, wants to give himself over to John's need, his desire.

His hips are hunching off the bed with each movement, with each rough stroke over his cock. Tightening his grip on himself, Derek continues to fuck his fist faster and faster, the pleasure building higher and higher.

"That's it. Come for me, Derek--"

Derek wails as he comes, his entire body shuddering as he spurts hot and white onto his stomach. Each droplet feels almost scalding as it hits his skin, tremors running through him with each streak that marks him. He keeps his grip around his cock, feeling himself soften before he moves his hand, his cock falling to lie against his thigh, sticky and sated.

"Good boy--"

The words fade into the air as the phantom of John disappears from Derek's bedroom, from Derek's mind. Reaching out, his grabs his t-shirt from where he placed it on the bedside table, using it to wipe the come off his stomach and fingers before dropping it over the side of the bed.

When he gets up tomorrow, he'll go back to the Sheriff's station and meet John Stilinski's gaze like none of this ever happened. But, for tonight, he wraps the thought of the man he's chosen as his alpha around himself and closes his eyes.


End file.
